


When in Berlin

by shimicars



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Airports, Alcohol, Drunk Sex, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, oh boy, sakusa is so dramatic, this is so self indulgent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:55:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29446656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shimicars/pseuds/shimicars
Summary: Miya Atsumu is the biggest pain in the ass Sakusa Kiyoomi has ever had the displeasure of knowing. After making the two of them miss their flight to Berlin for an MSBY Black Jackals away game, Kiyoomi is forced to spend an extremely arduous flight dealing with Miya's bullshit. The only thing worse than this catastrophe would be spending even more time with him. God forbid, a hotel bed...
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37





	1. Disaster strikes, and then strikes again

Kiyoomi was typically fond of familiarity. Routine. His team at Itachiyama had generously adapted to his particular habits and quirks without any disdain for his hypochondriac tendencies. He was extremely lucky to have been surrounded by friends who respected his adoration for order and consistency. At the time, he was certain this was the reason his team performed so well throughout his high school career. Kiyoomi expected the same dynamic from his teammates when he was first scouted to the MSBY Black Jackals.

What he did not expect was a collection of the biggest fucking idiots the entire country of Japan had to offer. Between Bokuto’s incessant mood swings and Hinata’s obnoxiously driven personality, Kiyoomi truly felt like he couldn’t catch a break.

And as if those two weren’t enough to fry his nerves on their own, Miya Atsumu was haphazardly added to the disastrous concoction of Sakusa Kiyoomi’s sad life.

It wasn’t like they didn’t click on the court; their scores proved their player compatibility to be quite high. Traveling around the world to compete against powerhouse teams in every country was only made possible by their undeniable chemistry as teammates. It only seemed as though, maybe…

Kiyoomi would not make it to see another game. He would die right here in the Tokyo Haneda Airport with only Miya fucking Atsumu to bear witness to his passing.

“Quit your fuckin’ moping, Omi-kun! I can see that pissy look from behind your mask. You're startin’ to bum me out even more than I already was.”

Miya had caused the both of them to miss their flight to Germany for their upcoming away game. He’d insisted on borrowing Kiyoomi’s phone to find his own, which he’d misplaced at the gym the morning of their flight. Therefore trapping the both of them in Osaka as the rest of their teammates were forced to depart without them. After the absolute dipshit finally found his phone (which was in his bag the entire time), they’d had to take Kiyoomi’s car to the airport, schedule a new flight to Tokyo, and then to Berlin. The two of them barely arrived within thirty minutes of their connecting flight at 11:30 pm.

And, of course, since this entire situation wasn’t already detrimental enough, their new flight was delayed until the following morning.

“As if it isn’t entirely your fault that you’re ‘bummed out’ in the first place, Miya. Please shut the fuck up and let me die in peace. I don’t want to hear your voice after midnight ever again.”

Maybe Kiyoomi was being a bit dramatic. But, in his defense, he really hated spontaneity. Miya was the very embodiment of this chaotic energy he so desperately wished to avoid.

“Oh my God, your so dramatic. Besides, now we get to spend quality team bondin’ time together. Ya don’t just stumble across an opportunity like this every day, Omi-kun!” Miya gave him his best shit-eating grin from the waiting area seat he was currently splayed across. Outside of his athleticism and naturally… attractive appearance, Miya truly had nothing going for him.

“I think the only thing worse than being stuck in a dirty airport at 1 a.m. is being stuck in a dirty airport at 1 a.m. with _you_.”

Miya plastered a look of mock offense on his stupid fucking face. “Oh, don’t be such’a downer. Here, I brought Uno.” He rummaged through his carry-on before he pulled out the most beaten up, overused deck of cards Kiyoomi had ever seen in his entire life. Playing Uno in the middle of the night was maybe the last thing he wanted to do right now. But he wasn’t sure the alternative of Miya griping about it for the foreseeable future was particularly pleasant either.

Kiyoomi couldn’t help the look of disdain he cast the cards in Miya’s outstretched hand. “No, thank you, I am not touching that. Maybe we could do something else. Sleep? That might be a good idea?”

This time, Miya seemed to be actually offended at his revulsion towards the clearly pre-loved Uno cards. “As if you’d sleep a wink in this place! You're way too weird about germs or whatever. Plus, I’m, like, brimmin’ with nervous energy from all’a that craziness earlier. Totally not my fault, by the way. Things just happened to get a little outta whack…”

He did have a point about the sleeping thing. The very thought of having to lie down on these disgusting leather seats (God forbid, the _floor_ ) made Kiyoomi physically cringe. Despite his dismissive attitude, Kiyoomi could clearly see that Miya felt bad about dragging him down in the chaos of the afternoon. He had a way of subconsciously rubbing the back of his neck whenever he felt guilty; it was almost comical.

“It absolutely is your fault, but whatever. I’ll play your game if you can at least give me some peace on the flight.” From his look of delighted surprise, he thinks Miya really hadn’t expected him to say yes. His amber eyes nearly sparkled. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, but Kiyoomi found that to be almost endearing. Yuck. He placed an extra jacket on the ground and resigned to playing a few rounds to kill time.

\--

After about an hour and a half of oddly competitive Uno (Kiyoomi and Miya both weren’t exactly fond of losing), they were too tired to really comprehend what was going on anymore. When Miya put a blue 4 on a green 6, it was clear that the game probably should’ve ended a few turns ago. Plus, Kiyoomi’s ass was starting to ache from sitting on the hard floor.

The drone of frequent airline announcements and bustling restaurants had finally begun to die down as several shops locked up for the night. The absence of frantically running passengers and obnoxious children passing time in the waiting areas was a welcome change from the earlier, busy ambiance of the airport. Despite his previous qualms, the airport was actually rather serene.

And Kiyoomi really felt delusional. After keeping a steady sleep schedule for the past two years of his life, being in the airport at 3 a.m. was taking a toll on him. His eyes felt heavy, and he wasn’t snapping at Miya nearly as much as when they first sat down. Perhaps some music could keep him alert until their flight boarded in two hours. If he’d stayed up this long, he could push through for just a few more hours.

Kiyoomi took a seat directly next to Miya on the cheap airport seats, popping in his earbuds as he leaned back. Glancing over at the other boy, it looked like he was already drifting off. His bleached blonde hair covered his eyes as Miya slumped over in the chair. He was breathing steadily, as indicated by the slow rise and fall of his toned arms across his chest. The weather was starting to cool down at the end of October, and Miya was wearing a thin sweatshirt and sweatpants; it was casual, but it suited his athletic figure and overall relaxed style.

It took a few minutes for Kiyoomi to realize he’d been staring longer than he meant to. Shouldn’t he be angrier that Miya ruined his trip to Berlin (which was supposed to be relaxing, given that they were allotted a few days to explore the city before the match) by acting like the fucking idiot he’s always been? Probably. He didn’t remember where he was going with this train of thought. All he knows is that deep down, he’s not mad at all.

Kiyoomi closed his eyes and relaxed as much as he could in the uncomfortable seat. He put on something loud and willed himself not to go to sleep.

\--

_“Good morning passengers. This is the pre-boarding announcement for flight 89B to Berlin. We are now inviting-”_

Kiyoomi snapped awake from his abruptly interrupted nap. He quickly realized that _somehow_ , he’d fallen asleep leaning his cheek against the top of Miya’s head (whose hair was actually a lot softer than he’d expected it to feel despite all the bleaches and dyes). Miya had rested his dumb fucking head on his shoulder and formed a rather sizeable puddle of drool on his crewneck. Gross, what the fuck.

“Wake up, asshole, it’s time to get on the plane. You fell asleep.” Kiyoomi shoved Miya off his shoulder, trying to wipe his stained crewneck with the strap of Miya’s duffel. He tried extra hard to muster a look of abject disgust behind his mask, which really wasn’t that difficult at all.

Miya slowly blinked his eyes open in an attempt to get his bearings after being suddenly ripped from what was probably a fairly pleasant slumber. He rubbed his eyes before letting out an obnoxious snicker at the sight of Kiyoomi’s shirt.

“Looks like I wasn't the only one who fell asleep, Omi-kun… you should really pay more attention to the time, though. ‘Specially since you were so sure ya wouldn’t doze off...”

Kiyoomi yanked him to his feet and grabbed his own belongings, heading for the gate. Miya may have stolen the first flight from him, but he’d be damned if the dickhead made them late for the second as well.

\--

The boarding process went smoothly, thank God. Any more hiccups in their trip probably would’ve induced an aneurysm; Kiyoomi really didn’t feel like keeling over and dying in front of Miya Atsumu.

By some stroke of luck, they’d managed to get two seats in an exit row, leaving plenty of room for Kiyoomi’s long legs. The flight was around fourteen hours and he intended to try to make the journey as bearable as possible. Miya took the window seat and Kiyoomi took the aisle seat. A major obstacle to his goal was sitting directly next to him, but he’d planned ahead for his Miya Placation Initiative.

“Man, I’ve been on maybe a hundred flights now an’ I still get all nervous right before takeoff.” Miya chuckled, poorly disguising the fact that he was definitely more anxious than he let on. They go through some variation of this ritual every single time they travel.

“You should’ve said so earlier, I’ll give you some of my Xanax.” Kiyoomi held out two small pills to the other man.

Miya lit up at the rare offer of generosity from Kiyoomi, especially at the prospect of taking something strong. “Gee, Omi! That’s real nice’a-”

“It’s fucking Benadryl. I don’t even have a Xanax prescription. Go to sleep and leave me alone,” Kiyoomi deadpanned, dumping the medication in the open palm in front of him.

Miya rolled his eyes and begrudgingly took the pills with a swig of water. He settled into his seat and began to text, who Kiyoomi presumed was his brother Osamu, after realizing he’d find little comfort from Sakusa. Fine by him. Kiyoomi desperately needed a moment of peace and quiet.

They’d gotten through boarding without much of a hitch and were nearly prepared for take-off. Kiyoomi took a deep breath, relaxing into his cramped seat. Until that is, he felt a swift _KICK_ to the back of his chair. And another. And another.

He really didn’t _try_ to look so intimidating, but he had to see what little fucking gremlin was attempting to ruin this aspect of his already disastrous trip. One glance around the edge of the seat. Just to see.

The small, maybe eight-year-old child absolutely assaulting the back of Kiyoomi’s seat was immediately moved to tears when he spotted the pair of dark, irritated eyes staring back at him. Tears turned to sobs as his mother shot an equally annoyed look at Kiyoomi. For fuck’s sake. Discipline your children.

“Did you just make that little kid cry?? Holy shit dude-” Miya erupted into hysterical laughter after seeing the look of what Kiyoomi could only assume was embarrassment and irritation plainly written across his face. At least one of them was enjoying themselves.

“Fuck off, Miya. You’ve taken my time, my drugs, and now my dignity.” He could feel his face heating from humiliation as the mother behind them finally calmed her child down. Miya, on the other hand, wasn’t letting up.

“I didn’t hav’ta try all that hard to take your dignity, Omi-kun, ya managed that pretty well on your own,” Miya choked out through fits of laughter.

This was going to be the worst fourteen hours of Kiyoomi’s life.

\--

After Miya finally passed out, the flight wasn’t all that bad. Kiyoomi usually didn’t take much medication (as to not build up an immunity), but he really needed some help getting to sleep. He’s never had much luck getting any rest on planes; his lack of sleep from yesterday dictated a dire need to pass out for a few hours, though. He took two of the same pills he gave to Miya hoping he’d end up sleeping as soundly as the other man, who was currently completely unresponsive.

They typically traveled together whenever the team had to fly abroad for an away game. Both of them got along well with their teammates, but most of them had pre-established relationships prior to joining the team. Hinata and Bokuto were especially close after the many Tokyo training camps, so it only made sense for Miya and Kiyoomi to stick together. Between the All-Japan Youth Camps and whatever outside training the coaches encouraged, the two boys were already well acquainted when they began playing for the MSBY Jackals. It wasn’t the ideal matchup, but it worked well enough.

At first, Kiyoomi really couldn’t stand arrogant and quick-tempered Miya Atsumu. Sure, he had an undeniable ability to bring out the best in his teammates on the court, but he was insufferable. His cocky attitude and absolute belief in his ability to “pull bitches,” as he says, gave Kiyoomi an overwhelming urge to strangle him several times per day. After time, though, Kiyoomi found their opposing energies complimented each other nicely. Where he was introverted and unadventurous, Miya pushed him out of his comfort zone to try new experiences. Where Miya was reckless and outspoken, Kiyoomi ensured he had a solid grasp on the reality of whatever inconvenient situation he had gotten himself into. He’d actually grown rather fond of the man he swore he couldn’t stand just a few years earlier.

Not that he’d ever admit this, though. Definitely not to Miya. He couldn’t afford to fuel his already massive ego.

Kiyoomi’s drifting thoughts were interrupted as Miya adjusted himself in his sleep. The other man slumped comfortably against his shoulder, similar to how they’d woken up in the airport.  
It was no secret that Miya was attractive. He’s had a slew of girlfriends (and probably boyfriends as well, but Kiyoomi wasn’t going to ask) ever since high school. In fact, Miya’s always had a rather wide variety of people interested in him for his outstanding athleticism, built physique, and outgoing personality. Kiyoomi knew this and had known it for quite some time now. It’s what made Miya so undesirable to him.

So why now was he taking such a detailed inventory of the man in front of him? His long eyelashes rested delicately under his closed eyes, a gentle rosy tint spread across his tan cheeks from laughing earlier. His lips were slightly chapped and parted almost imperceptibly in his deep, Benadryl-induced sleep. One of his hands was resting on his thigh, still noticeably muscular even through the thick fabric of his sweatpants. His other hand was laying on the armrest between them, his elbow barely touching Kiyoomi’s abdomen.

When Miya felt compelled to close his mouth, he could be quite beautiful. Well… even when he refused to stop talking, his animated features betrayed none of the allure of his sleeping face.

But all of this was beside the point and made Kiyoomi feel things that he wasn’t ready to explore just yet. He was tired. Absolutely, unfathomably exhausted. The weight of Miya against his side was warm and comfortable. Maybe he would rest for a little while, enjoying his fleeting moment of serenity.

\--

“-Omi-kun. Omi-kun! Hey, look! I think that’s Berlin!”

Kiyoomi was awoken from a dreamless sleep yet again by Miya’s hand shaking his shoulder. He suddenly, shamefully realized that he’d been comfortably asleep while leaning his entire fucking upper body against Miya as if he were Kiyoomi’s own personal pillow. What the fuck.

“... wait, we’re already in Berlin…?” Kiyoomi came to another uncomfortable realization while looking at the sun setting over the distant city below. He’d been sleeping on Miya Atsumu for the _entire fourteen-hour trip_.

“Well, yeah! You looked pretty comfortable, so I didn’t wanna wake ya up. But now your missin’ the view!” Miya turned halfway through that statement, focusing his eyes on the window.

“Ah, well.” If he turned red after making that kid cry, he could only imagine the horrific shade of bright red his face must be now. His mask could only do so much to hide that. Kiyoomi tried to cover his oddly severe embarrassment and… _other_ undisclosed emotions occurring directly in the center of his chest by reaching to grab his water bottle from his bag under the seat.

“S’fine, you probably needed it anyway. But seriously, look!”

This time, it wasn’t a request. Miya yanked Kiyoomi by his collar to get a better view of the sky enveloping the city below them. His rough knuckles brushed the soft skin of Kiyoomi’s throat, adding to the overwhelming blush creeping up his cheeks and to the tips of his ears. The feeling was only heightened when he registered what exactly was outside of the small plane window.

The clouds finally cleared as the plane began to descend. A brilliant pinkish gold swirled around the silhouette of a bustling Berlin, the city lights beginning to twinkle in contrast to the last moments of fleeting sunlight. It was absolutely beautiful. Kiyoomi was no stranger to flying and had seen many cities spread out against vast horizons through plane windows. But he had never seen a sunset so beautiful. He had never seen a skyline so captivating. He had never felt so fucking giddy because of Miya Atsumu.

While he was enraptured with the view below, he hadn’t noticed Miya’s eyes travel from the skyline to Kiyoomi’s own face. He saw a gentle smile spread across Miya’s lips from his peripheral, turning his head to meet the other’s gaze. They were only a few inches away from each other as Miya finally let his hand slide from Kiyoomi’s collar. He’d never seen Miya look so comfortable, so content. It could’ve been because of any number of reasons, but the same rosy glow still stained his cheeks.

“S’beautiful, isn’t it?”

Kiyoomi didn’t look away. He didn’t miss a beat.

“Yeah. It’s stunning.”

\--

At the rate everything was going, Kiyoomi was terrified they wouldn’t get their luggage. The first few bags emerged, then the next, with no sign of either Kiyoomi’s or Miya’s bags. He watched around thirty suitcases of various shapes and colors circle around the baggage claim station. It was definitely supposed to be the fourth belt, Kiyoomi double and triple checked the monitor showing the plane assignments. He was starting to freak the fuck out. His favorite Itachiyama jacket, the watch his mother had given him for his high school graduation, his _volleyball uniform_ -

Miya, who had just gotten off the phone with Hinata giving a poor description of the directions to the hotel, walked over to the baggage claim area to see Kiyoomi having a minor breakdown.

“Uh, Omi? Are ya feelin’ alright?” Miya looked concerned as he grabbed both of their bags from the conveyor belt. In the midst of his paranoia, Kiyoomi had completely overlooked the two familiar black suitcases moving past him.

“Oh, yeah. I don’t usually take sleep aids, I think I’m still groggy.” He rubbed his hand over his face as he took his belongings from the other man. He’d like to let that incident go unnoticed.

“Anyways,” Miya continues, clearly unbothered by Kiyoomi’s crisis, “Hinata’s directions sucked. Bad. Per usual. Somethin’ about an all-white building near the sports complex…? They only booked one airport escort, which was obviously used by the rest of ‘em. So. I guess we gotta get a cab. You speak English, right?”

Kiyoomi’s parents forced him to take English lessons through high school, but he wasn’t exactly fluent. He recalled something about being a “well-rounded global citizen” or some other bullshit he tried his best to ignore. He had some gut feeling that his parents may have been onto something with the foreign language lessons. Kiyoomi was absolutely not ready to face another disaster because of his own incompetence.

He was starting to get irritated. It was clearly time for him to get the fuck out of this airport. “Barely. Maybe we could just walk outside and grab one of those cabs waiting for passengers. What’s the hotel called?”

“A? AC Mary somethin’? I’m really feelin’ like I can’t pronounce that. Fuck.” Miya’s Kansai accent didn’t give him any leverage in his pronunciation.

“Let’s just pull it up on Google and show it to the driver. I’m really sick of airports.” He needed to get to that hotel as soon as possible.

Miya nodded in agreement and joined Kiyoomi’s direct stride towards the exit. The air was crisp and cool, fully embracing fall.. They located an unoccupied cab fairly quickly, jumping in as the driver waved them over.

\--

As it turns out, the cabbie was well aware of the language barrier. He kindly tried German, English, and even French, but the Google listing for the hotel was more than enough for Kiyoomi and Atsumu to reach their destination.

The rest of the team was already out to dinner when the two arrived, so they went straight to the check-in counter to secure their room. Kiyoomi had a feeling that Hinata and Bokuto would not be sober by the time they finally met up; he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous. Neither Kiyoomi nor Atsumu were particularly tired after their extended nap on flight, but Kiyoomi was absolutely dying to take a shower. Spending so much time in the public airport made him feel as though a layer of grime has accumulated all over him.

But, as it turned out, the series of unfortunate events to befall Sakusa Kiyoomi was far from over.

In perfect English, the concierge checked Miya and Kiyoomi into their hotel room. They stood at the front desk, decorated with ornamental light-washed wood and fake trees. Fancy. She explained they’d be staying on the seventh floor. One king-sized bed. Amenities include a complimentary mini-bar, etc. Kiyoomi wasn’t really paying attention. He could barely understand the English being spoken to him anyways. The woman handed the two their room keys and waved them off with a warm smile.

It was only when Kiyoomi turned on the lights in their shared room that he realized the issue.

Aren’t there supposed to be two beds?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you enjoyed my first sakuastu fic! I have another update planned shortly after the release of this, which will definitely change the rating and tags... (i.e. smut incoming)


	2. Alcohol-Induced Companionship

After a very heated phone call with a clearly _not_ sober Hinata, the coach, Bokuto (for some reason?), and a relayed conversation from the front desk of the hotel, Kiyoomi realized that this was really happening. The hotel was full, fall was peak travel season in addition to the crowd garnered for their game tomorrow. There were no other available rooms. He’d be sharing a bed with Miya Atsumu.

“Saying I’m sick of you would be the understatement of the century. I know I’m far from perfect, but I really feel like I don’t deserve this.” Kiyoomi was exasperated. He removed his mask and grabbed one of the dumb little single-serving liquor bottles from the minibar, promptly pouring it down his throat. For good measure, he drank a second as well.

Miya scoffed, watching him seal his fate for the remainder of the evening. “Always the theatricals with you, huh? Afraid you won’t be able to keep your hands off my _irresistible_ body, Omi-kun?” He shot a half-lidded smile at Kiyoomi, probably trying to put on what he thought was a seductive look.

The gag Kiyoomi stifled was not from the burning aftertaste of the liquor. More so at the unprecedented display of narcissism from the insufferable prick standing on the other side of the room. 

“No, definitely not. You can sleep on the floor since this is all your fault anyway. If we’d gotten here on time, maybe there’d be a bed for both of us.” He didn’t try to hide the contempt in his voice.

Miya made a noise of indignation. “No fuckin’ way! I know ya don’t hold my standards of cleanliness to your own, but that’s fuckin’ nasty! I am _not_ sleepin’ on the dirty ass floor.” Kiyoomi was honestly surprised this was his first concern, but it didn’t really matter what excuse he mustered up. He wasn’t sharing that bed. Any remainder of the awkward energy they’d shared earlier was immediately dissipated.

“I’m taking a shower. Then, I’m going out to get drunk. I’ll forget these past two days ever happened.”

Kiyoomi forcefully shut the bathroom door behind him, leaving Miya staring in irritated disbelief at his back. He wasn’t typically so inclined towards drinking too much, but this horrific trip had brought out a bolder side of him. 

His stomach growled as he undressed. Neither he nor Miya had eaten anything since their flight was delayed in Tokyo. He could already feel his empty stomach exacting its revenge as the warmth from the shots spread in his chest. Great. At least he was on track for his goal.

\--

Kiyoomi toweled off his wet hair as he remembered he left his clothes in the bedroom. He tied the towel around his waist and exited the bathroom after his much-needed shower. He may be feeling famished and slightly buzzed but at least he was clean.

Miya raked his eyes rather lewdly over Kiyoomi’s exposed chest. Judging by the pink flush on his cheeks and the absence of the rest of the bottles on the minibar, Kiyoomi assumed he would also be tagging along to out-drink the atrocities of this trip. Whatever, it’s not like he actually expected to lose Miya’s persistent presence at any point tonight. Kiyoomi rolled his eyes as he grabbed a pair of black jeans and a black crewneck to match his melancholy mood. Miya probably did have a point about the theatricals.

“Damn, Omi-kun, took ya long enough. I’m starvin’! There’s a German pub down the road that doesn’t look too bad.” He flung himself back on the bed, clutching his stomach like a hungry child. At least he had the decency to change his clothes before sitting on the bed, now sporting a pair of fitted joggers and a hoodie with the Miya Onigiri logo on the front. He was pretty sure Osamu had taken over that business once they’d graduated high school, but Kiyoomi couldn’t be sure.

“What about the rest of the team?”

“Ah, apparently they finished their meal ‘bout an hour ago. I think most of ‘em are out sightseein’ closer to the middle of downtown. Inu-san said Shouyou and Koutarou are fuckin’ trashed,” Miya sat up, looking at Kiyoomi expectantly. “Which, by the way, would be ideal right now. Can ya hurry up an’ change?”

They’d undressed around each other plenty of times, but Miya usually wasn’t directly watching him. This felt somehow more intimate than a sweaty boys’ locker room. Especially considering their interaction on the plane earlier. 

“Yes, stop looking at me like that and turn around,” Kiyoomi ordered as he pulled the crewneck over his head.

Miya looked as if he’d challenge that, but thought better of it after realizing his dinner was on the line. He shot Kiyoomi another smug look as he flipped over to use his phone. Kiyoomi didn’t really feel like trying to make any sense of that, he was hungry and ready for some respite from his decidedly bad day.

\--

Kiyoomi knew his limits when it came to alcohol. There was absolutely nothing worse than waking up with a bad hangover; he made sure to drink plenty of water and cut himself off when necessary.

Kiyoomi knew this well enough to recognize how far he’d gone past his limits sitting in this shitty pub with Miya.

The obnoxious, constant beat of house music (which really didn’t fit this pub’s atmosphere?) was starting to grow on him. He’d eaten nearly six of these weirdly delicious kebab things; he had to point to the picture on the menu when the waiter took their order. He also had several pints of some domestic German beer from a local brewery, or at least he thinks. His mood had improved exponentially from his earlier tirade.

And as consolation, Miya was also definitely drunk. Very drunk. He tried to flirt with a waitress working another table for five entire minutes before realizing she couldn’t speak Japanese, no matter how slowly he spoke. Kiyoomi apologized in his broken English, but the effect was probably lessened by his own laughter. Usually, Hinata was there to translate but obviously, they’d carried on their trip without him and Miya.

“Omiiiiiiiii… we should go to’a club or somethin’... I hear Berlin clubs are _crazy._ ” Miya uttered his first words in the past ten minutes since he’d received his food. He was so preoccupied with inhaling everything on his plate, he’d forgotten to annoy Kiyoomi. Nice.

“Do I look like the type who would enjoy a club to you?” Miya knows how much he hates crowds. Even the pub was a bit overwhelming at first, but the anxiety gave way to warm haziness as he downed as much beer as he possibly could. 

“Ahh, but I do! Come on, it’ll be fun! Ya know, you should really try to put yourself out there more often,” Miya definitely wasn’t going to drop this until they did something other than sitting at this dimly lit bar. His eyes had that particular shine Kiyoomi now associated with Miya whenever he had a bit to drink. He had lots of exposure to this version of him.

“I’m not going to a club. We can do something else.” 

“No wonder your buzzkill ass can’t get a girlfriend… you're no fun at all,” Miya was sulking now, clearly upset his idea had been so harshly rejected. He put his reddened face in his hands, the sleeves of his hoodie now pushed up to reveal his toned forearms. He leveled Kiyoomi with a glare, looking like an angry child more than the intimidating athlete he was probably going for.

After Kiyoomi finally processed the insult, he challenged Miya’s stupid comment, “who said I couldn’t get a girlfriend? And what does not wanting to go to a crowded, foreign club have to do with not being able to get one?” 

Miya gave him a smug look. “Oh yeah? If you're so confident in your ability to somehow trick a girl into datin’ ya, why haven’t ya? You're missin’ out on the best part of life! Er, well, I guess ya don’t hav’ta be datin’ anyone for _that._ ” He said that last part a bit awkwardly. Kiyoomi never knew Miya to shy away from talking about sex. Interesting.

“Me having a girlfriend isn’t indicative of my ability to get one. I’d much rather just play volleyball than have to try to keep up some half-assed long-distance relationship when I’m already so busy. And stop trying to make a comment about my sex life. Which, by the way, also has nothing to do with whether I have a girlfriend or not.” Kiyoomi squinted his eyes above his mask as he delivered that last line. It had the intended effect.

Miya went beet red and his mouth flew open. “Omi-kun! An’ here I thought ya just didn’t like women, er somethin’...”

“Well,” Kiyoomi was definitely oversharing at this point but couldn’t bring himself to care. “You’re not exactly _wrong_ about that, but-”

Just when he thought Miya’s face couldn’t possibly get any darker, a completely new shade of crimson crawled all the way up to his neck to the very tips of his ears. He was abruptly cut off by Miya’s sputtering. “Ah! Okay, haha, wow! That’s… new? Not that it bothers me! I mean, I’ve tried a thing or two with guys myself, I guess?”

Kiyoomi had never seen Miya so flustered in the entire time he’d known him. It was embarrassing. It was also the funniest thing he’d ever seen. There was absolutely no stopping the full-bodied laugh that rose from his chest. Miya stared at him with a hilarious combination of terror, joy, and confusion. Kiyoomi couldn’t even stop his hysterical laughter as they paid the tab.

“Omi, are ya fuckin’ with me? Or just drunk, or…?” Miya’s own laugh had died down a bit as he skeptically questioned Kiyoomi’s uncharacteristic behavior. His face was still very red, though. Kiyoomi wanted it to stay that way forever if only to give some indication that he wasn’t a pompous asshole every second of the day.

“No, I’m not fucking with you. Yes, I’m drunk. Let’s get out of here.” Miya gave another nervous chuckle at his response, running his fingers through his messy hair. It wasn’t as styled as he usually kept it, but the messiness added more depth to his effortless attractiveness. He looked good like this. 

They both got up to leave the now overcrowded pub, making room for more worthy patrons than the nuisances they’d become. Kiyoomi tailed close behind Miya, not trying all that hard to keep his eyes off of the outline of his ass through his joggers (which were much tighter than Kiyoomi had realized when they left the hotel. He wasn’t complaining). He was almost surprised by some of the decidedly lewd thoughts crossing his mind, but drinking did tend to lower his inhibitions. He felt bold. Plus, Miya’s little outburst at their table had inspired some _interesting_ ideas about the reasons for his embarrassment.

The cool air felt refreshing on Kiyoomi’s warm skin as they exited the pub. The streets were bustling with people as Berlin nightlife was starting to pick up. It was a little before 10 p.m. now, according to his phone. He definitely wasn’t ready to retire for the night.

Next to him, Miya gasped as he saw what appeared to be a fairly popular club. He dragged Kiyoomi by his sleeve as Miya ran closer to the door to get a better look. The line to get in was pretty long and the people in line were wearing _very_ revealing clothes disguised by various types of coats and jackets. 

Miya let go of his sleeve as he tried to peak past the bouncer, stealing a glimpse of what was so appealing about the club. Kiyoomi saw his eyes noticeably widen as the same blush from earlier returned. Miya was acting quite flustered tonight.

“We, uh, probably shouldn’t go to that one,” he admitted as he walked back over, ignoring the laughter of some of the people standing in line.

“Oh? Why is that?” Kiyoomi couldn’t think of many good reasons that Miya would turn away from the prospect of a party.

“Well, ya see... I think that was a nude club? I feel like I’ve seen somethin’ maybe I shouldn't have…” He was rubbing the back of his neck again. Jesus.

Kiyoomi really couldn’t pass up taunting the other man. He had so much success earlier and it was starting to feel like a game. “But I thought showing yourself off was something you wanted to do?”

At this, Miya gave him a lopsided grin. Shit, it looks like all that did was enable him. “Ah, Omi-kun, I don’t hav’ta go to a nude club to do that.”

Kiyoomi scoffed. “Good, because I wasn’t going to do that anyway. Do you wanna grab another drink? I don’t want to go back to the hotel yet.”

“Sure! I think I’d like to see ya all liquored up more often, Omi-kun. Less of a prude, more fun.” Miya matched Kiyoomi’s pace as they walked down the busy street. He chose to ignore that comment. There were a plethora of bars along the strip, it wasn’t long before they’d stumbled upon one that looked decent enough to have good drinks without being so upscale as to overcharge.

After taking a seat at the bar, Kiyoomi ordered them both one of the domestics on draft in English. He guessed it made enough sense because the bartender gave them both a pint without further questioning.

Miya shot him a challenging smirk as he brought his drink to his lips. “Ya think ya can keep up with me, Omi-kun? You’ve had a good bit to drink tonight, I won't knock ya if ya wanna slow down…” He knew exactly what Miya was trying to do. Get him even drunker to pry more information out of him. Kiyoomi knows he shouldn’t, but he takes the bait anyway.

“In your dreams, Miya.”

“You _gotta_ stop callin’ me Miya. It reminds me of my brother, everyone else just calls me Atsumu anyway. Hey! If I finish this pint before you, ya gotta start callin’ me Atsumu.”

Kiyoomi smirked. “Deal. If I win, you have to sleep on the floor tonight.”

From the way that Miya’s eyes lit up, Kiyoomi knew he’d made a mistake. “Deal.”

\--

Miya... well. Atsumu won that competition by a landslide. He probably had a leg up from all the degeneracy Kiyoomi was sure he’d been involved in during high school. Either that, or he was just making excuses for his embarrassing loss. Atsumu seemed extremely motivated to finish his pint first. Kiyoomi feels like maybe there could be some ulterior motive as to why Atsumu was so against sleeping on the floor of the hotel room, but it doesn’t really matter.

“Ahh-haaa… Omi-kun! Say my name again, I’m tryin’ to revel in my victory…” He tried to grab Kiyoomi’s shoulder but badly misjudged where to put his hand, sending him stumbling towards the road.

Kiyoomi was definitely _drunk_ , but he wasn’t that far gone. He grabbed Atsumu’s arm before he fell, bracing him against his shoulder.

“Okay, _Atsumu_ , watch where the fuck you’re going. If you get injured-”

“Oh blah, blah, blah, I’ll be fine. I’d kill for a shower an’ some tuna onigiri ‘bout now, though.” Atsumu wrapped his arm around Kiyoomi’s side, clearly making the most out of the support he needed to keep walking. Kiyoomi didn’t push him off.

Not long afterward, they’d finally made it back to the hotel room. The gravity of the bed situation didn’t seem so bad anymore; it wouldn’t kill Kiyoomi to share. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t even sure why he was so upset in the first place. They’re both close friends. Atsumu isn’t particularly unhygienic. And-

His train of thought was interrupted as he noticed Atsumu stripping on his way to the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothes from the entranceway to the shower. Now it was Kiyoomi’s turn to stare. 

He’d never had much incentive to gawk at his half-naked teammates before, but now he couldn’t rip his eyes from Atsumu’s beautifully muscular back. He had absolutely no blemishes which made the two dimples situated directly above his ass that much more captivating. His hips moved in tandem with his thighs as he stepped out of his joggers. As much as Kiyoomi enjoyed the fit of them in the pub, he didn’t miss them for the view of his bare skin underneath the fabric. His thighs and calves were clearly defined, the sharp lines caused by the skin stretched over hard muscle was nearly enough to make Kiyoomi reach out to touch.

He kept his hands to himself, though, as Atsumu gave him a half-lidded smirk over his shoulder. He started to pull down his boxers as he kicked the door closed, only giving Kiyoomi a fleeting glance of the lines leading below his abdomen.

Kiyoomi took a deep breath when he heard the water turn on. He tried to dismiss the heat pooling in his stomach as an after effect of the copious amount of booze he’d drank, but even he wasn’t persuasive enough to convince himself that was the real reason for this languid arousal. After sitting on the side of the bed with his head in his hands for a while, he grabbed his phone. He noticed a slew of texts in the team group chat, a message from Motoya, and a notification for a mobile game he hadn’t played since Bokuto forced him to download it. 

He scrolled through the nearly incomprehensible mess of texts in the group chat (weren’t they all in the same hotel? Just talk to each other?) before he heard the water shut off from the bathroom. Atsumu typically took pretty long showers; this was a noticeable deviation from his usual habits. 

Kiyoomi’s heart began beating too fast in his chest. He felt like he was anticipating something but he wasn’t entirely sure what. Or why.

Atsumu opened the door wearing nothing but a towel. His skin was still damp and his hair had obviously been quickly towel-dried. His face was tinted pinkish red from the heat of the shower and the alcohol in his system.

“Ya look like you’ve been waitin’ on me, Omi. And you're still in your street clothes on the bed? You must be pretty plastered,” Atsumu smiled at Kiyoomi as if the man before him were a feast fit for a king. Interesting, considering he wasn’t the one dripping wet with only a towel covering his body.

Kiyoomi stood up, taking a step towards Atsumu. “You’re right, it’s not like me to forget.”

Kiyoomi grabbed the sides of his crewneck, pulling it over his head in one swift motion. He threw it across the room without breaking eye contact with the man in front of him. Atsumu’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of Kiyoomi’s bare chest, still smirking as if this were his own personal show. Though, he supposed it was.

Atsumu took another step closer to Kiyoomi, nearly eliminating the distance between them. He smelled like cheap hotel soap and a bit like the beer they’d both chugged earlier. He tilted his head up slightly to match the small height difference between them. Kiyoomi felt a warm, callused hand run over the skin beneath his jaw. He inhaled deeply, still looking intently into Atsumu’s amber-brown eyes.

“Didn’t I tell ya I don’t have to go to a club to show myself off?” Atsumu breathed, barely audible. Kiyoomi felt drunk, both from the alcohol and the feeling of skin against skin. He leaned in, closing the minuscule gap between them.

Atsumu’s lips were slightly rough against his own, chapped from his habit of worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Kiyoomi pressed his tongue against his mouth, tasting beer as Atsumu happily parted his lips. Kiyoomi took his lip between his own teeth, reveling in the stifled noise he heard from the other man. He wrapped one hand around Atsumu’s bare waist, bringing the other to firmly grasp his jaw.

Kiyoomi tilted Atsumu’s head further upward, gaining access into his mouth by sliding his own tongue to meet Atsumu’s. They continued like this for a moment when Atsumu used his leverage to push Kiyoomi onto the mattress. His lips followed close behind as Atsumu climbed onto his lap, straddling him with only the towel and Kiyoomi’s pants between them.

Kiyoomi slid his mouth from Atsumu’s lips to his neck, licking the soft, warm skin. His hands trailed down to his waist, right where his thighs met his hips. 

“Ah! Omi...” Atsumu openly moaned, pushing his hips down against Kiyoomi’s. His pants were so tight, he felt as if they were about to burst.

Atsumu noticed this and moved his hands to sloppily undo his jeans while Kiyoomi sucked the tender spot in the crook of his neck. He finally undid the button and zipper and ran his palm against the length of Kiyoomi’s erection through his briefs. Kiyoomi groaned at the unexpectedly focused pressure, rutting his hips up against Atsumu’s hand. 

He pushed the towel from Atsumu’s waist and gripped his toned ass as his lips found Atsumu’s again. The friction between his hand and Kiyoomi’s cock felt amazing, but he desperately craved the feeling of skin on skin. He broke the kiss to lift Atsumu to his knees. The towel was discarded by now and Kiyoomi licked at the tight skin of Atsumu’s abdomen as he removed his own pants, leaving them both fully exposed.

Kiyoomi pushed Atsumu back onto his lap, the sensation of soft skin against his cock causing him to moan into the other man’s neck. Atsumu ground down against Kiyoomi again, wrapping his hands around Kiyoomi’s neck as he crashed their lips together.

He pulled back just enough so that their lips were barely touching. “Fuck, Omi… wish I would’ve asked ‘bout your sex life earlier if- ah!” Kiyoomi promptly interrupted that train of thought by wrapping his hand around both of their cocks, now slightly slick with precum. Neither of them was small by any means, but Kiyoomi’s large hands created the perfect amount of grip when he stroked them together. 

He was definitely drunk and would probably regret this in the morning, but his voice of reason was being effectively drowned out by Atsumu’s strained moans. They continued like this for a bit, before Atsumu sank his teeth deep into Kiyoomi’s bottom lip, sure to leave a mark.

“Ah, Omi, fuck! I think I’m gonna-” He was silenced when Kiyoomi firmly grabbed his ass, promising to leave Atsumu with five small bruises on his ass cheek. He quickened the pace from which he was previously moving the two of them together, hearing an absolutely filthy noise escape Atsumu’s swollen lips. The heat of Atsumu spilling onto his hand added the perfect slickness to his grip on both of their cocks, just enough to push him towards his own building orgasm.

“Fuck, _Atsumu-_ ” Kiyoomi couldn’t help Atsumu’s name tumbling from his lips as his own cum joined the sticky mess pooling on their laps.

They stayed like that for a while, bodies pressed against each other and breathing heavily as they recovered. Kiyoomi felt his drunken haze begin to clear a bit as Atsumu grabbed the towel he’d been wearing earlier to wipe up the mess.

“We should probably just toss this towel. I’d feel kinda bad makin’ the hotel staff clean that,” Atsumu quietly laughed as he climbed off of Kiyoomi’s lap. He was starting to think that persistent blush really might stay on his face forever.

“That’s probably the least of our problems right now, but I’m sure they appreciate your consideration.” Kiyoomi breathed a laugh of his own and he pulled on his briefs as he climbed into bed. “I guess we can deal with that tomorrow.”

Atsumu nodded in agreement, joining Kiyoomi in the bed that got them in this situation to begin with. He was too tired to push Atsumu off when he laid his head on Kiyoomi’s chest. Maybe he’d gotten used to the feeling of Atsumu sleeping pressed against his side.

Either way, he couldn’t muster the energy to complain about their admittedly very comfortable sleeping arrangement. All of his thoughts faded into a blissful sleep as he pulled Atsumu closer to his bare side, enjoying the warmth of their bodies tangled together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, a quick update! mainly due to my friends pressuring me. anyways. i hope you enjoyed this chapter! i have lots of fun plans for what's coming next...


End file.
